Amidst the scattered tombstones, Grim's hundred skeletal soldiers stood in a huddled mass, staring blankly up at their leader. Positioned in the middle, Grim, their newly minted Skeleton Lord, was leaning against a gravestone, striking a comically lazy pose as he stared at the night sky, silently questioning his life choices.
Initially, Grim had been thrilled by the prospect of being a Lord and leading his own army to glory. But now, lying there, he began to feel like nothing mattered anymore. The more he thought about it, the more appealing it seemed to just lie there indefinitely—basking in the sun or soaking in the rain for the rest of his un-life didn't sound too bad.
After all, as an undead, there were no colds, no diseases, and aside from a bit of bone deterioration from long-term exposure, nothing could really harm him. And if his bones did eventually become brittle, he could always just swap them out. Right now, bones were the one thing he had in abundance.
"Heh, 'to carry such a heavy burden, even one's very bones must suffer,'" he sighed dramatically. After laying around for what felt like an eternity, Grim finally accepted the sad reality: he was now a skeleton soldier.
Struggling to his feet, the green flames in his eye sockets flickered as he drew in a breath, causing a hollow whistle to echo from his ribcage. Then he shouted, "Attention! Fall in!"
Crash!
At the sound of Grim's order, the hundred skeleton soldiers below erupted into a chaotic frenzy. They bumped and shoved each other, all jostling for position in the most chaotic attempt at forming ranks. In the midst of Grim's stunned gaze, his minions ended up creating an even bigger mess, with a few unfortunate comrades getting trampled in the process.
Looking down at the pile of dismantled skeletons and those still scrambling around in confusion, Grim smacked a bony hand against his skull in frustration. At his wit's end, he finally jumped into the fray, fists and kicks flying as he took charge of the formation himself.
"You! Go over there! And you, get over here! That one! Stop shoving! You've been kicking that guy's head around like a soccer ball for ages—do you think you're on the national team or something? Stand properly, for crying out loud!"
After a period of chaotic, hands-on instruction and precise adjustments, Grim's hard work finally paid off…in that they managed to increase the number of dismantled skeletons from six to fourteen.
Making his way back to the main gravestone, Grim glanced at the ragtag formation and the remaining skeletons who were still trying to reassemble themselves, his expression utterly blank. He refused to believe this mess was due to his lack of leadership skills—these skeletons were simply too dimwitted to follow orders!
Slumping back against the gravestone, Grim resigned himself to ignoring this squad of clueless skeletons for the moment and took stock of his current situation. The graveyard he was in wasn't just an ordinary burial ground—it was his starting domain, a place imbued with a unique magical aura.
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**[Name: Skeleton Graveyard]**
**[Rank: Tier 1]**
**[Effect: Absorbs dark energy from surroundings, automatically produces 10 Tier 1 skeleton soldiers every seven days, which join your army for free]**
**[Description: Don't complain about skeletons being weak—they didn't complain about your lack of wealth!]**
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The Skeleton Graveyard was Grim's one and only Lord's building and his only real trump card. Aside from this, he had one other advantage: every Lord received a unique talent upon gaining their title. Grim's Lord's Talent, called *The Harbinger of Death,* was highly unusual, and when Grim read its details, he was dumbfounded.
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**[Lord's Talent: The Harbinger of Death]**
**[Effect: Upon killing any living creature, harvest its soul energy. Soul energy can be used to upgrade any undead unit or item, with a max upgrade limit of Tier 2. Current energy: 0]**
**[Description: Hey there, friend, can I borrow your head for a moment?]**
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Looking at his talent stats, Grim's eye flames sparked with newfound hope. A Tier 1 skeleton might be worthless, but if he could get them to Tier 2, maybe they wouldn't be complete garbage. Even if they couldn't take on other Tier 2 troops, they should at least be able to mop the floor with the lowest Tier 1 weaklings, right?
Without hesitation, Grim leapt to his feet and approached one of the skeleton soldiers, trying to activate his talent on it. A loud chime sounded in his ear.
*(Ding! Upgrade failed! Insufficient energy! Requires 100 energy points to complete upgrade.)*
Hearing this message, Grim's eyes flashed as he smirked—or he would have, if he'd had a mouth. So, only 100 points to upgrade a Tier 1 skeleton to Tier 2? That didn't seem so bad!
But if upgrading a skeleton cost 100 energy, how much would it take to upgrade his Skeleton Graveyard, his one and only Lord's building?
With curiosity bubbling inside him, Grim turned and placed a hand on the massive gravestone in the center of the graveyard. The cold, familiar voice echoed once more in his ear.
*(Ding! Upgrade failed! Insufficient energy! Requires 100,000 energy points to complete upgrade.)*
Grim's face froze as he slowly withdrew his skeletal hand. He stared at the gravestone for a few seconds, then let out a dry chuckle. Well, he decided, Tier 1 seemed perfectly sufficient for his needs—no point in reaching for Tier 2, right?
Turning back to his skeleton soldiers, Grim drew in a deep breath and shouted, "Alright! Scatter and hunt down anything alive! Anything!"
Silence descended over the graveyard. The skeleton soldiers stood there, unmoving, all turning their empty eye sockets toward Grim in blank confusion.
Grim's head jerked back in surprise. They held this silent stare for a few awkward seconds before Grim waved his hands for emphasis.
"I said scatter! Go hunt! Don't tell me you don't understand my orders…No! Stop that! I didn't say attack each other! You over there—where are you going? Why are you burrowing back into the grave? I said *out*, not *in*! Can't you understand the difference?"
Despite Grim's increasingly frantic commands, the skeletons showed no sign of comprehending. Watching this horde of clueless skeleton soldiers with their innocent, dim-witted stares, Grim felt a wave of despair wash over him.
One reason he had chosen the Undead faction was the number of starting minions, but there was another reason—he'd assumed skeletons would be easy to command, with no personalities, simple instincts, and above all, no chance of rebellion.
As he saw now, he'd been right—they wouldn't rebel…but only because they were too clueless to even understand the concept of rebellion.
"Stop wandering around! Stand still! You two over there, pull that idiot out of the ground before he digs himself all the way back down!"
A pained shout echoed through the empty graveyard, spreading into the night as Grim's patience crumbled and his voice reached the edge of despair.